


feels like coming home

by awakeanddreaming



Series: tear these walls down, and build them back up with memories [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Building A Home, Christmas, Domestic, F/M, Family, Fluff, Ghosts, Love, outside pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-27 15:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15688569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awakeanddreaming/pseuds/awakeanddreaming
Summary: They fall asleep like that, wrapped up around each other. Christmas lights twinkle through the window and a light snow begins to fall outside. And the feeling is finally here—a feeling of coming home. Christmas is always meant to be shared.*moments that make a house a homeFrom Tessa fell in love with her house the moment she saw it





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Because these four walls had such an incredible response--as did it's epilogue-- I decided to write some other moments from this world. This can be read without reading these four walls, but will make much more sense having read the original.
> 
> Christmas in August anyone?
> 
> *I made a minor edit to the title as someone mentioned there is another work by the same name.

_2016_

This house is a perfect house for Christmas time. It’s one of those old houses that when you pass it by—all decorated for the season—you can think of nothing but a classic Christmas movie. Mary and her husband, George, always went all out decorating for Christmas. Their girls always loved it and the sounds of their excited voices shrieking out in glee every Christmas morning to the sight of an over stuffed tree will remain echoes in these halls, and her memories, forever. Even when they were grown adults spending Christmas here just always felt right—Christmas meant coming home.

The girl decorates, she always does. Makes the house look like the front of a Christmas card, but there is a certain feeling that is missing. It lacks sentiment, there is no real Christmas spirit, no overwhelming holiday joy housed between these four walls. In all the years she has owned the house the girl has never spent the night here Christmas Eve. Has never woken up in this house on Christmas morning. Until this year.

She tells the boy this, as they lay in her bed on Christmas Eve. She is wearing his t-shirt, tucked into his bare chest, tracing patterns on his skin.

“Tess, you’ve had this house for five years and you’ve never spent Christmas here?”

She shrugs against him. “Being here alone on Christmas just never felt right and...I don’t know…there was no one else I’d want to spend it here with…”

He hums, running a hand up her back and she props herself up a bit on his chest, so she can look at his face.

“Maybe... I was kind of waiting for you to come spend Christmas with me.” She pauses and kisses along his jaw. “This feels right. This feels special...us spending Christmas together.” Her words are quiet but sure.

He smiles brightly at her, his hand stilling in its exploration of her back. “And people think I’m the sappy romantic.”

“I have my moments.” She laughs and kisses him hotly before laying her head back down on his chest. His hand movement picks up again, running along her spine under the loose t-shirt.

He has spent the night here—just like this—on many occasions over the course of the last year but this seems different. Light and heavy at the same time. She is sharing something special with him and the weight of it floats in the room around them—they both feel it. He is looking down at her where she rests on his chest, her arms wrapped possessively around his torso. There is such love and devotion in his gaze it is almost bursting from him. She relaxes into him, finally at peace—like she has found a long-lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle she thought she’d never be able to complete.

They fall asleep like that, wrapped up around each other. Christmas lights twinkle through the window and a light snow begins to fall outside—the first snowfall in a trend toward unseasonably warm winters in Southern Ontario. And the feeling is finally here—coming home. Christmas is always meant to be shared.

In the morning he wakes before her to the break of dawn casting itself through the open curtains. He watches her—almost mesmerized by the sight of her—in the low light for a few minutes before she finally begins to stir.

She blinks her eyes open. “Hi.” She says, voice still thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas, babe.” He grins, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Merry Christmas.” She hums.

He leans into her, kissing her softly at first, and then deeper tangling a hand in her hair, while the the other snakes under the blanket, finding just the right spot to elicit a moan from her. 

She pulls away just enough to whisper against his lips. “If this is what waking up on Christmas with you is like, I think I’d like to do it every year.”

“I think I’d like like every year with you too.” He says, before positioning himself over her, pulling the covers over his head and working kisses down her body. 

 

_2018_

 

When Mary lived here, Christmas always meant a full house. On Christmas Eve they always held a Christmas open house. Mary would put out a spread of Christmas treats and appetizers and family and friends were invited to pop by throughout the night with a potluck item to add to the always over stuffed dining room table. Adults chatted happily, and kids ran around hyped up on too many Christmas cookies—constantly peaking outside to see if one of them could maybe spot the red glow of Rudolf’s nose in the night sky.

The night always culminated with Mary’s girls handing out old, worn, and ripping paper Duo-Tangs filled with the notes and lyrics to dozens of Christmas carols. Mary would put her teenage piano lessons to use, while George conducted, and the group would sing—mostly out of key and for many a little bit drunk off eggnog and spiked cider. And a swell of happiness would rise in Mary’s chest as she watched all the people she loved fill her home with the sounds of Christmas.

She hosted these open houses even after her kids grew up, even after George was gone, even when her grandbabies were teenagers and thought that singing Christmas songs with a bunch of half drunk adults was lame. She hosted Christmas Eve every year she lived in this house—until she absolutely couldn’t do it anymore.

This year the girl and the boy are have their families over for Christmas Eve. They spent the afternoon prepping and discussing in hushed tones how exactly they were going to share some very special news with their families. They alternate been excitedly and nervously flitting about the house.

Though it is all store bought and heated in the oven—unlike the homemade Mary would have done—the girl has set out an impressive looking appetizer spread on the kitchen island. There is a fire lit in the living room, but everyone is mingling between the kitchen and the family room—a room that had once been Mary’s garage, this seems a much better use of the space. There is a fake fire crackling away on the TV, and the low hum of Christmas music through the sound system being drowned out by friendly chatter. 

The girl is refilling a platter of mini quiche when her mother approaches her with a glass of white wine. 

She shakes her head a little nervously. “Thanks, but I’m not drinking tonight.”

Her mother raises an eyebrow at her in question while she searches the room for the boy—trying to make eye contact with him—to ask for his help. She spots him right away, and he quickly makes his way over to her carrying a wine glass filled with pink liquid. 

“A special cocktail, for my special lady.” He says with a wink, handing her the glass.

“Tess, is there something you want to share?” Her mother asks, eyebrows raised again, causing a few more family members to glance over curiously.

The boy and the girl share a look and he kisses her on the temple. “As good a time as any to bring out those presents, eh?” He asks her.

She nods and he withdraws himself from the room quickly, followed by more questioning looks from their collective family members. 

“Mom,” she starts, then looks to the boy’s parents, “Alma, Joe…we have…umm…little gifts for you guys.”

When the boy returns—carrying two small red gift bags—all eyes are on him and the girl, who is fidgeting nervously with the rings she wears on her middle finger. The air in the room is thick with curiosity— there are a few knowing glances between siblings who have guessed exactly where this is headed—as everyone gathers closer in the kitchen. The boy hands both the mothers the little bags.

“So, umm…this was a bit of a surprise…and well…I know the timing isn’t ideal…but yeah…we are still pretty excited.” The girl stutters out, still fidgeting. Her face is turning red as she looks up and registers the looks of understanding as most of the faces process what she is saying and make the connection themselves. They already know, she can tell. She presses herself into the boy’s side for comfort and he wraps his arm around her, protectively.

“Why don’t we just let them open the bags, yeah?”

So, they do. Together both of their mothers pull the white tissue from the gift bags, followed by the exact same tiny red onsie with a _Canada_ printed across the front and something else on the back. Both woman are already tearing up before withdrawing the next item from the bags. Two framed grainy black and white images—an ultrasound picture. 

A collective joy washes over the room. There is smiling, hugs, and many congratulations. It is a different kind of excitement than when Mary held Christmas Eve here—and far smaller a crowd—but the house is filled up with same feelings of love, family and merriment. There is so much love filling the house that it might as well be stuffed with every friend and family member in the area, just as it was in Mary’s day.

 

 

_2019_

 

She is sitting in the big comfy chair in the alcove by the top of the stairs, a book propped open in one hand and nestled in her other arm, against her breast, is a happily nursing baby. Mom and baby are wearing matching red pyjamas dotted with snowflakes while they cuddle in the best chair in the house. Both are sleepy but content in the low light of the wintery sunrise behind them. 

She turns from her book to adjust her child, switching her to the other breast. Looking down at her drowsy baby she hums a Christmas tune—a little off key—and lets her book drop onto the chair.

“Merry Christmas, Mary.” She whispers, dropping her head to place a gentle kiss on her daughter’s forehead.

That’s how he finds them when he comes upstairs—carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He watches them quietly, his partner and their child, for a few minutes. A look of pure joy slowly creeps into his expression—like the steady rising of sun outside the window behind them. His lips curve up into a smile and crinkles form around his eyes. He looks at them like maybe this is a dream and if he turns away he may wake up, and this is a dream he never wants to wake from.

 “Hey.” He says, finally, causing her to look up at him and smile. “How long has she been up?”

“Not long, maybe twenty minutes.” She says, looking back down at their daughter who is sleepily toying with the ends of her mother’s dark hair.

He crosses the space between them to place her coffee on the small table next to the chair. He is wearing similar matching pyjama bottoms—at her insistence—but his chest is bare. She runs her free hand—the one not supporting their baby—up his naked abdomen and hums. Then looks to the coffee he brought her, noticing the whipped cream and chocolate shavings spilling over the top. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Peppermint mocha.” He replies to her unasked question.

With her hand still tracing over the muscles near the hem of his pyjamas she laughs and says with a wink, “Well merry Christmas to me.”

He chuckles and leans down to plant a kiss on her lips. “Merry Christmas, Babe.”

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Just getting some last-minute things under the tree.” This time he winks at her.

“Scott,” she shakes her head, but a half-smile crosses her lips. “You aren’t supposed to get me anything.”

“I know. But I wanted too…because a little over five months ago you gave me the best present ever.” He nods to the now sleeping baby in her arms and gently adjusts her top to cover her bare breast—unlatched from their daughter when she finally succumbed to sleep.

He sits on the ottoman by her feet, and they fall into a companionable silence. Watching the steady rise and fall of their daughter’s chest as they sip their coffees.

“I think this is the best Christmas yet.” He says softly.

“Yeah,” she hums. “It is pretty perfect.”

The memories of Mary’s family Christmases, the sounds of her daughters shrieks of delight, might be forever embedded into the fibres of this house, but it is time for a new family to make their own memories here. For the sounds of a different child to echo through these halls. In a few years this new family will be complete, and they will forge new memories. This is their home now.

 

_2024_

This is their first Christmas as a family of four, and maybe the first one they have spent together—in this house at least—where she is awake before him. She had fallen asleep getting Audrey back down after her second wake up of the evening, sometime around eleven, while he stayed up assembling the elaborate wooden dollhouse they had gotten for Mary.

They had agreed it would be more exciting for her to find it already set up, waiting to be played with as soon as they got down stairs. She had even picked up some tiny doll sized Christmas decorations that matched the Victorian styled doll house, so that the dolls could celebrate Christmas too.  

Audrey had woken up at just before six, because apparently even at eight months old, she could sense the excitement of the day ahead of them. She babbles excitedly from her crib, while attempting to naw at the wood with her two new front teeth.

“Happy first Christmas, baby girl.” She smiles at the dark haired, hazel eyed little girl. If Mary is a mini her, Audrey is a near copy of her father.

Tessa has hardly settled into the rocker to nurse a fussy, teething baby when Mary rushes in, clad in red and green stripped elf pyjamas, hugging a stuffed cat to her chest.

“Mommy! Did Santa come? Can we go see?”

“Merry Christmas too you too, lovey.” She smiles warmly at her oldest, while settling her writhing sister in her lap to nurse.

“Merry Christmas to you, Mommy!” Mary parrots back. “Can we see if Santa came now?”

She can feel her daughter’s excitement vibrating through the room, and honestly it is her favourite part of Christmas now. Seeing how excited Mary gets, even just at the prospect of decorating the tree, or baking cookies. Watching her child experience the holidays in a constant state of wonderment is the best Christmas present she could ask for. That and seeing her husband dive into the season with the same child like enthusiasm.

“I just need to finish nursing your sister, then we can all wake up daddy and go see what Santa left together. Kay, love bug?”

With a near twenty pound baby perched on her hip, decked in a Christmas onesie and a Santa hat that has miraculously stayed on her head for more than thirty seconds, and a five year old who is literally buzzing with anticipation next to her Tessa opens the door to the master bedroom.

“Alright Mary, go get him.” She smiles, and gestures with her head to where her husband is sleeping, sprawled out on the king sized bed.

“DADDYYYY!” Mary cries as she flings herself up on the bed at her dad. “Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

As Mary bounces up and down on her knees on the bed, Tessa places Audrey directly on Scott’s chest and is met with a squeal of delight from her and an oomph from him.

He opens his eyes and grins sleepily at her, then both their daughters who are now climbing all over him. “Merry Christmas to my three favourite girls.”

“Merry Christmas, love.” She leans down to kiss him and he takes the opportunity to pull her down onto the mattress into the fray with him and their now giggling, and shrieking girls.

“This might be a new favourite way to wake up Christmas morning.” He whispers into her hair before planting a kiss there and wrapping all three of them in his arms.

Among other things, a Christmas morning dog pile on dad will become a new family tradition.


	2. pink lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came about because I had already written the 2023 scene as part of "these four walls" but I took it out because I thought it detracted from the overall emotional impact of that scene between Tess and Mary.

Mary had always known she wanted at least three kids. She had grown up in a big family and always wanted her kids to experience having the close bond of siblings as she had. So, when she found this house she knew with it’s four bedrooms upstairs it was perfect. One master and then one bedroom for each kid. There would be three, she saw it. She felt it deep in her bones. Three.

Ideally, she wanted them all evenly spaced, two years apart would be perfect—starting about two years after they got married. But she and George learned quickly that babies don’t work that way. Number one, Shelly, was a complete surprise and a product of their honeymoon— travelling the East Coast. Number two, Carla, came quickly after, only sixteen months younger than her sister. But it was perfect, they grew up the best of friends. They forged a strong bond, spoke in their own short hand and always looked out for one another.

And then life happened. There were major repairs to the house when a pipe burst and flooded the upstairs bathroom—so they spent weeks living with relatives. Then George lost his father, and his mother moved into the fourth bedroom for nearly two years—until Mary just couldn’t handle it anymore and they found her a nice apartment.

Mary opened her dance studio, which nearly bankrupt them in its first year while she built up a student body. So, George took up extra shifts and extra coaching to pay the bills. And she dragged the girls with her everyday to the studio—leaving them to play in the office or watch classes—while she taught and did admin work. The house became just a place they slept, and argued, as it fell into disrepair and mess that they just never had time to get around to. And she wondered if maybe she had been wrong all along and they would never have three. She had tried to be happy with her two wonderful girls.

But then five years after Carla and weeks of feeling sick, the doctor told her she was going to have Lisa. And just like that everything fell back into place. At six and nearly eight Shelly and Carla were the best big sisters. They helped change diapers, and taught Lisa how to dance and how to skate and everything in between. The studio was running smoothly, even had enough students and revenue for Mary to hire three other teachers and an administrator. And George got promoted and got a permanent part time coaching position. And maybe, just maybe everything, all of it, happened exactly when it was meant to. Their house was full, and happy and just as it was always meant to be.

 

_Spring 2016_

The girl is pacing the big upstairs bathroom—the room that had once been Mary’s fourth bedroom. A white stick sits on the counter while the girl tries hard to focus her attention on the box it came in. Anything to keep her thoughts off the test sitting there waiting for her.

“Not now, not now…” She mutters to herself on repeat as she paces, flexing and clenching her fingers.

She curses under her breath before trying to steady her breathing. Deep in and out to counts of four. Eyes closed.

“Okay, it will be okay. We can handle this.” She says to the air around her once she has calmed herself down. She says it again and again, as if trying to fill the room with her affirmation—that this will make it true.

It is only then, with her nervousness still vibrating through the room, that she allows herself to glance at the pregnancy test next to the sink.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She exhales once she finally looks at the solitary pink line in the test window.

She looks at her reflection in the mirror, she looks tired. Dark circles rim her eyes and her hair is making a frantic escape from her sloppy bun. Relief washes over her features, and her eyes brighten—just a little—before she heaves in a sigh and the relief is tinged with something else. Underneath, swimming in the pool of her eyes, is a weary sense of loss—longing even.  

“Hey, Tess! Babe? Is everything okay up there?” A voice calls out from somewhere downstairs.

“Yeah. I’ll be down in a sec.” She croaks out a reply.

“Where do you keep your cheese grater?” The voice calls out again, seeming not to notice the waiver in her voice.

“To the right of the stove, second drawer.” She yells back, steadier this time.

She looks back at herself in the mirror and there it is again, the look of relief mixed with something else—something a lot deeper. She closes her eyes and breaths, in and out. When she opens them she smiles, because she knows something now that she didn’t before. Not today, but one day soon she wants this—with him. They will get there when they are ready, and she has that same wistful look in her eyes as she did the first time she set foot in this house.

“Scott,” she speaks softly, but loud enough for her voice to travel down the stairs, “ _I love you.”_

 

_Fall 2018_

 

_She is in the big bathroom again with another little white stick sitting on the counter—waiting for her to look at it. It’s obvious she is nervous, but it isn’t as all consuming as the last time she was in this same position_.

 

The girl and the boy—who lives here now too—just got home after months of being away. They flitted in and out of the house, but never stayed longer than a few days, throughout the summer and then were off and the house was cast into emptiness, yet again. But here they are, breathing in a sigh of relief as they pushed through the front door—like there is no where else in the world they would rather be.

“Welcome home, babe.” He says as they come crashing through the door.

“For two days.” She sighs.

“I’ll take two days at home with you any time.” He smiles and kisses her cheek.

“Can we just spend the entire two days in bed? I am so fucking tired.”

He chuckles, finally filling the house back up with noise and runs his hands down her arms. “God. Yes. I would love nothing more than to spend two days in bed with you.” He winks.

She laughs and turns to face him, her hands landing delicately on his chest and resting there while she leans up to kiss him softly. “Mm…babe, I want you. I really do, but I am serious about being tired. I need a nap. I don’t remember the last time I have felt this tired—I feel like tiredness has permeated every fiber of my being. For the past two weeks, I don’t think I have felt not tired. This tour is killing me.”

“Okay, let’s nap.” He says gently nudging her towards the stairs.

So, they do. Without even bothering to bring their suitcases upstairs with them, they head upstairs and cozy into each other under the blankets of their bed, limbs tangled up together. Breaths syncing and slowing until they fall asleep together. But after nearly two hours she gets restless, tossing and turning in the bed for a while before quickly getting up to head to the bathroom.

She barely makes it there in time before falling hard to her knees in front of the toilet and getting sick. She stays there until she has emptied her stomach and then she rests her head on the cool porcelain of the bathtub next to her.

It takes a few minutes, resting against the tub schooling her breathing, before her eyes fly open with sudden realization.

“Shit.” She murmurs before crawling to the cabinet under the sink and searching through products before pulling the small pink and white box out from the very back.

Now, the test sits on the counter next to the sink, just as it had two years before—waiting for her to look. She is breathing steadily, mentally preparing herself for either outcome but there is a small glimmer of hope in her eye. A mix of hope and trepidation. Just like Mary, who hadn’t planned on her pregnancy with Shelly happening when it did, she wants this even if she didn’t plan it. Even though she might be okay with the idea it is still nerve wracking—the result on this small piece of plastic could literally change everything. Which is why she hasn’t been able to look yet.

When she does, it only takes a quick glance to see two bright, bold, side by side pink lines. _Positive. Very positive._ And this is it, in a few months this house is going to become a home again—one for a family, finally after so many years. They are going to be a family.

Her hand clasps over her mouth and she struggles to keep her tears at bay, her chest heaving with the effort.

“Scott?” She calls, voice audibly cracking with emotion.

There is muffled crash from the bedroom—like he may have tumbled out of the bed in a rush to get out of it. “Babe? Are you okay?” His words come out in an anxious rush.

“I think so.” She says, softly, standing in the door of the bathroom waiting for him.

He hurries out of the bedroom in his boxers and a rumpled t-shirt, worry creasing his forehead.

“Tess? Baby? What’s wrong?”

She practically falls into him, and he automatically folds his arms around her.

She shakes her head against his chest. “Nothings wrong…this is good…I think.”

She takes a small step back from him, finds his hands and brings them around in front of her. She gently places both their hands on her flat abdomen.

“Scott…I…I’m…i’m…” She stumbles trying to get out the words but he doesn’t seem to need them. His eyes go wide as he looks from their joined hands to her face.

“Tess?”

She looks over her shoulder to the test that is still sitting on the counter, he follows her gaze. Then she looks back at him, nodding furiously, finally allowing a flow of tears.

“A baby?” He asks.

“A baby.”

 

 

_Fall 2022_

It may not have been as they planned, but they are a family of three now. The lonely house that had long ago been filled the laughter and cries of Mary’s family, is filled with noise again—so much noise. Their little Mary is just over three now and full of spunk and the happiness she fills both her parents and the house with is palpable. There is so much love between the three of them, but they still have more to give—there is a piece missing from their family.

She is sitting on the bathroom floor with a familiar test in her hand, staring at the little plastic window as if she could will the second line to appear—like maybe if she squints, or holds it up to the light in a certain way she will see just the faintest glimmer of hope. She knows, though, that isn’t how this works. She has been here enough times over the past nearly two years—crestfallen—to know. She might trick herself into thinking she seems something, the faintest glimmer of a second line, but that had only happened once since Mary. One faint barely there line and two weeks later it was over. Gone in a small wave of pain like it had never been there to begin with—that was five months ago.

She closes her eyes and rests the back of her head against the tub and lets out a long low sigh. She has her legs stretched out in front of her and the negative pregnancy test clutched tightly in her hands. Tears gather in the corners of her tightly closed eyes.

That’s how he finds her, nearly tripping over her outstretched legs. He bends down slowly, quietly, as if he is afraid of spooking her.

Gently he pries the test from her hands. He doesn’t even look at it—doesn’t need to—just tosses it towards the trash. He kisses her face—her nose, each cheek, her lips.

He mumbles something to her that sounds a bit like, “There’s always next month.”

She shakes her head and cautiously opens her eyes to look at him. “I feel like my body is betraying me…us…again. And I’m sorry…I know you always wanted…I’m sorry…if I can’t…if my body just can’t do this again…it feels like with—”

“No.” He says, taking her hands in his. “This isn’t like your legs, baby. This isn’t ever going to be like that. You gave me the most beautiful, caring, amazing little girl—we made that and you carried her for nine months. If this is it, if it is just you, me and Mary that’s enough for me. I love you both so much. You’re not letting me down, and you didn’t then either. Never have.”

She nods, resolutely. “I love you. Both of you so much. I just always thought we’d have more…that Mary would have someone to share secrets with, to play with…I just…I don’t know…I always imagined another one… _sisters.”_ She whispers the last word.  

He wraps her up in his arms then, kissing her temple. “I know, baby. I know.”

After a long while, he pulls away from her just a bit, to look into her eyes while he talks. “This doesn’t mean it will never happen again for us. I know it feels like it now…but maybe it just isn’t the time. I believe that…we didn’t plan Mary, fuck we were in the middle of our own damn tour…but look how amazing that turned out. We can keep trying, okay? But maybe we should stop with this. With the test every month, and the temping and charting and all of that. Just for a little bit…”

“Okay.” She says finally.

 

_Summer 2023_

They are still just a family of three, and the longing for more still follows them around the house. But they are happy, happier than they have been. The house has that lived in family feel, despite the girl’s constant efforts to keep everything perfect. There is still crayon on the baseboards in the back bedroom, and scuffs on the hardwood, tiny pink sneakers that never got put away and stray legos and barbie shoes lost under furniture. They are happy. They have settled into the idea that this may be it.

Until little Mary says, “Mommy, my little sister is in your tummy already.”

Then it is clear to see the wheels turning behind her eyes. Her world is spinning. Hope, sadness, fear, longing, desire—so many emotions she can’t put a cap on them. She is allowing herself to picture the innocent day dreams she had when she first walked through the front and saw herself, with him and two little girls. But she had felt something then, as she walked through the house—awake and dreaming—something that told her that was inevitable. And she has the same feeling now, her eyes glaze over as she allows herself to picture it again.

He comes up the stairs to find their daughter sitting alone on the alcove chair, chattering away to one of her dolls.

“Hey little bug.” He says raising his eyebrows at her. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I’m telling Molly dolly about my new baby sister. The one in mommy’s tummy. I told mommy, but she got kinda sad. So now I’m just gonna talk to dolly ‘bout it.”

He breaths in a deep sigh and creases his brow. “Oh, bug…where’s mommy?”

The little girl just points towards the closed bathroom door and shrugs. And as if on some sort of cosmic cue as soon as he looks to the door a muffled sob emanates from behind it.

“Oh fuck.” He huffs as he hurries to the door.

She is standing at the sink, pregnancy test in her hands, tears on her cheeks.

“Fuck.” He says again, barely noticing their daughter has trailed in behind him, dragging her floppy doll—this isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last time she hears him say that.

“Babe, I thought we talked about this. About the tests…I hate seeing you like this.”

Looking right at him she shakes her head and laughs. She laughs and cries and he knows.

“Wait, Tess…you’re…are you?”

She nods. “It’s positive. Very positive.”

She shows him the test and at first glance it looks like so many of the others she has taken, but there is a very faint but distinct second line. Though something about it looks off, the lines seem inverted. The test line the one that isn’t always there is the bold dark pink and the control line is muted. Like the test line drew the ink right out of the control line (she will tell him later that is exactly what happened).

Then she picks up another test he hadn’t noticed from the counter and shows it to him. This one has a tiny digital screen and the results on it are unmistakable. There in black print on the green screen _Pregnant_ and right below it _4+ weeks._

“You have to add two weeks to that.” She rushes out, still crying. “Because the weeks indicator goes from conception. That means at least six weeks…and I didn’t even realize… I hadn’t even noticed I didn’t have a period this month. And—“

He doesn’t let her say more, he has her swept up in a crushing hug. Their absolute joy radiates from their bodies and fills the bathroom. Spilling out into the hall and filling the house.

That’s when little Mary makes herself known.

“Mommy?”

She pulls herself away from her husband and looks down at her daughter. There is so much love in the look she dotes upon her that it cannot possibly be contained in the space of this room.

“Oh love bug! You were right, mommy does have a baby in her tummy.” And she is crying all over again.

The little girl presses herself against her mother’s stomach, her tiny hand rubbing it gently.

“Hi baby sister!”

He puts his hand over their daughter’s on his wife’s stomach, kisses her and says “Hi baby.”

Mary will make an excellent big sister. And maybe they won’t be as close in age as she had hoped, but they will grow up to be best friends. And just at the family before the older will teach the younger everything she knows. And maybe this was exactly how it was always meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> In keeping with the original work, after Audrey is born and their little family is complete the narration switches to Tessa's POV, as now it is really her family's home. Mary remained in the house until Tessa's waking dream when she first saw the house is realized.


End file.
